


Morning glory

by Kangoo



Series: April Bouquet [24]
Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Relationship can be read as platonic or romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23811934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangoo/pseuds/Kangoo
Summary: They make it to the end.
Relationships: Dismas & Reynauld (Darkest Dungeon), Dismas/Reynauld (Darkest Dungeon)
Series: April Bouquet [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685779
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	Morning glory

**Author's Note:**

> man i don't even know what i'm doing with these prompts anymore
> 
> spoilers for the final boss, kind of, if you haven't reached it yet (god knows i haven't)
> 
> theme: willful promises

The Hamlet feels _wrong_ , weighed down by something so purely evil you can taste it at the back of your throat. Reynauld and Dismas stand at its threshold, shoulder to shoulder. Reynauld’s armor clink softly as he shifts and bumps his hand against Dismas’. He turns to look at him even though the crusader is still staring right ahead, at the village drenched in misery and darkness.

“It’s not too late to turn back,” Dismas says, even though they both know that if they tried to run away, they would not make it to the other side of the woods alive. He’s not even sure that the path they took to arrive here would still be there were he to turn around. This is not a place that lets you go once it’s gotten a hold of you.

Even if they could, though, even if the trees opened up and led them back to the relative safety of the world beyond these woods, Reynauld wouldn’t. The crusades lit a fire in him brighter than any funeral pyre. Where Dismas only sees promises of death, he sees great deeds to be done — a land to be purified with fire and steel. For all his faults he’s never been one to turn his back on such a duty.

Reynauld squares his shoulders. “We can’t.”

Just as he thought. Dismas sighs, and he’s not even sure himself if it’s more fond or resigned. He nods, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

“Right.”

He turns his hand and Reynauld naturally comes to tangle their fingers together. He squeezes lightly, careful of the painful edges of his gauntlet. When Dismas risks another glance at him he finds Reynauld looking back.

“You will not die,” the crusader swears. “I’ll make sure of it.”

He would warn him against making promises he can’t keep, but— at the moment the idea that this place will not drag them further into the darkness is appealing. Even if it’s a lie.

Instead what he says is, “Neither will you. We’re gonna make it through, you hear me?”

They step into the cursed hamlet as one and chain themselves to the place. ‘Til death do them part.

There is blood everywhere. On Dismas’ hands — there’s always been blood on his hands — and on Reynauld’s armor, too, so much of it his torn tabard has turned crimson, the smell of copper overcoming the stench of rot and malice in the air. In the center of the room lays the Heart of the corruption, finally motionless after they tore it to shreds.

(Somewhere under the gore lays the bodies of their two companions, but he’d rather not think about it. There will be time to grieve later. They’re alive. There will be _time_.)

Dismas staggers towards his oldest friend. Reynauld rips his helmet off and throws it to the ground, frantic with remnant fear and disbelieving joy. They stumble into each other. Dismas lifts shaking, bloodied hands to his face and Reynauld lets him, uncaring of the blood Dismas smears on his skin as he cradles his face. Instead he grabs him by the neck, touch firm but still gentle despite everything, and pulls him closer, pressing their foreheads together.

“We made it,” Dismas whispers, voice hoarse from yelling.

“Told you we would.”

“Yeah.” He smiles for what feels like the first time in years and feels brittle, like an old rusted knife on the verge of breaking. Reynauld holds him closer. “We did.”

**Author's Note:**

> come haunt me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/2Fast2Kangoo) or [tumblr](https://youngster-monster.tumblr.com/)


End file.
